


As Our Blood Separates

by fashionably_uninvited



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dark Room, Episode 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fashionably_uninvited/pseuds/fashionably_uninvited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sad little oneshot set in episode 4 between the scene at the junkyard and party at Blackwell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Our Blood Separates

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely apologize to whoever reads this for all the grammatical and stylistic errors you may find. It’s been too long since I actually wrote anything like this in English, it’s not my first language (not that it’s any excuse) and I clearly need more practice.
> 
> Title is the song by Midas Fall.

**As Our Blood Separates**

 

_What kind of world does it?_

 

The words are echoing in your head and you’re not sure whether it Chloe’s voice or your own that pulsing through your brain hurting almost as much as the worst rewind you’ve had. Every possible answer comes out shallow, pointless and wrong. So you don’t answer that. Instead you ask yourself “What do you say to your best friend after you’ve just dug up the remains of the person she loved?” Apparently, nothing. It’s like this stupid entry in your diary where you question how to approach Chloe after five years of abandonment. You remember how it all started, like a great pirate adventure from you childhood – draw the map, follow the clues, find the treasure. And you did – rotting in the ground right beneath your feet. What words can possibly matter after this? It’s monstrous, unfair, horrible in its cruelty and makes you want to clench your fists until they bleed. But hey, maybe that’s the answer. That’s the kind of world this is.

At some point you considered rewinding all the way back to this goddamn barn so you didn’t have to see your best friend cry, didn’t have to hear her scream at the top of her lungs didn’t have to feel like she’s the one decomposing right in front of you. You almost went through with this as you saw her body giving up under another shaky sob and you held out your hand feeling this familiar tingling sensation in your fingertips. You stopped before the first flashes of migraine you’re getting weirdly used to blinded your mind. Because it’s too much. You’re too stressed and desperate and that iron taste in your throat is not a good sign, because it’s just like that time with Kate. But shattered and scared on the edge of the roof, Kate was alive and within your reach and there was hope. Hope that you don’t screw this up, that you care enough for her to feel that and hold on to it. Would she say that ignorance is bliss? You wish you could call her and ask her this right now, but you know your Chloe all too well and you realize you have no right to take this away from her. Not after six months of sleepless nights, hundreds of smoked cigarettes and thousands “wanted” posters. So you gather your last strength, gently help her up from the ground and lead to the only secure place nearby you know of - the infamous Lair.

You saw her die, blood splattered all over her punk tank top, saw her kill a man, gun going off in her trembling hand, but none of this compares with the look she has in her eyes now – unfocused, blank and inward. It makes your throat tight and painful and you feel like it’s a good excuse for this silence between you, filled only with cigarette fog and scratching sound. You raise your head to find that the source of it is a long pointy stick in Chloe’s hand, mindlessly drawing something on the ground. After a while you can make out blurry R + C and if you considered saying something before you sure as hell don’t see any point now. Chloe is in her own little world now, where camera flashes, L.A. sun and Rachel’s smile shine for her and Max Caulfield is just a faint bitter memory from the past. There is no time travelling, no tornado, no ridiculous omens - just Rachel pulsing through her veins, radiating from her smirk, dancing in her eyes. You’re way past denial stage and no stupid jealousy bites could argue that this girl was the fuel that kept Chloe going. That a faint chance to bring her back was the only reason she signed up for this.

The distant sound of train passing by does not bring you nostalgic dreams and poetry quotes - it’s lost opportunities, unsaid words and meaningless regrets rushing past you. You wish you could just hop on in it and screw all this mess you got yourself involved into. You wish you could take Chloe with you and start another grand adventure – glorious punk and hipster photographer with nothing but endless miles ahead. No detective games, no old barns, no dug up graves. Everything is fine and Rachel Amber is waiting for you to pick her up in some glamorous bar flirting her way through the cocktail menu.

Chloe makes her last drag and tosses cigarette out of the window. The click she makes with her fingers doing that drags you out of your thoughts and you feel almost relieved when she stands up and heads for the exit. She stops at the table on her way and you don’t need to second guess that the thing she put inside her pocket is that photo booth card you wished had you in it instead of Rachel. Chloe’s silhouette in the doorways is framed by the sunset light and you know it’s a great chance to take the photo, but you don’t want to be the person who takes advantage for such trivial matter at a time like this. You are still allured by the view and don’t make any attempt to move until she finally speaks.

_\- It ends tonight._

_\- Chloe, the tornado is still com-_

_\- It ends TONIGHT._

You’re both quiet on your way to her truck and you pretend you didn’t notice ghostly silhouette of a doe watching you. “Is this what you were trying to tell me all this time? I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Please, don’t leave me just yet. I need your guidance.” But as soon as you finish this thought, it’s gone. Chloe mutters you to hurry up and starts the engine.

The tears streaks are still fresh on her face and memories of the other Chloe (but still your Chloe nevertheless), gentle, broken and dying sting you like rusty needle. “One life saved – another life shattered” - sad bitter truth you’ve learned from tampering with alternative universes. You think it’s called Newton law in physics, but science has never been your thing. You wander if Rachel’s life was a price to pay for someone else’s. Chloe is driving with one hand clutching a gun in her jacket with another and you have a feeling you’ll learn soon enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ tumblr](http://ehidnicus.tumblr.com/post/130054407081/as-our-blood-separates)


End file.
